


Scotch

by pterodactyldrops



Series: good as new [5]
Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Drabble, Drinking, Established Relationship, F/M, Self-indulgent fluff, dorks being dorks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-28
Updated: 2015-12-28
Packaged: 2018-05-09 22:08:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5557319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pterodactyldrops/pseuds/pterodactyldrops
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The alcohol barely touches Molly’s ruby red lips before she coughs and sputters.</p><p>MacCready wipes his mouth on the back of his hand, grinning at her. “Too strong for you, boss?”</p><p>Prompt: Maccready and Molly are getting drunk and then talk about their feelings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scotch

The alcohol barely touches Molly’s ruby red lips before she coughs and sputters.

MacCready wipes his mouth on the back of his hand, grinning at her. “Too strong for you, boss?”

“Hell no,” Molly snaps. She takes another swig. Her eyes water as she tries to swallow it down. “What is this shit anyway?”

MacCready makes a grab at the bottle but Molly holds it just out of his reach. “It’s scotch.”

“ _Scotch_?”

“Yeah.” MacCready leans forward–or at least he thinks that’s what he’s doing because the whole world is spinning. “Are you deaf as well as drunk?”

He makes another swipe for her hands, but Molly dodges him by flopping back against the couch’s armrest with a dull thud.

She takes sip and wrinkles her nose. “This doesn’t taste like any kind of scotch I’ve had before.”

“Oh yeah?” MacCready crawls towards her, running his hands up her legs to move them out of the way. “When was the last time you had scotch? Two hundred years ago?”

“Ouch,” Molly says, laughing. The bottle dangling between her fingertips slips through her hands and falls to the floor. “That was a low blow.”

“The only kind I know how to give,” MacCready replies. His hands on either side of her head press into the armrest behind her.

“I like your _low blow_ s.” Molly waggles her eyebrows at him, smirking.

MacCready settles his hips against hers, pinning her into the couch. “How nice of you to say.”

“It was,” Molly agrees, wrapping her legs around him. “Now….”

Her mouth hovers in front of his. MacCready can smell the alcohol on her breath. “Now what?” he asks.

“Now,” Molly licks her lips, “Now give your grandma some sugar.”

“What the fu–heck, Molly?” MacCready backs away, covering his head with his hands, laughing. “I mean–just– _what_?”

Molly cackles. “That’s what you get for calling me two hundred years old.”

“You ruined the moment,” MacCready says. “Also, now I feel ill. So thanks for that.”

Molly giggles. “You _like_ it,” she sings.

“No,” MacCready snorts, disentangling his limbs from hers. “I really don’t.”

“You like me,” she amends, still giggling, and sits up next to him.

“Yeah.” MacCready heaves a sigh and lays his arm around her shoulders, holding her close. “I guess I do.”

Molly kisses him on the cheek. “You love it, even.”

MacCready rests his head against hers. “I love _you_.”


End file.
